Edward's Twilight
by eastsideclassic
Summary: We always long for the forbidden things, and desire is what denies us." This is a story for all true Edward fans. A fleshed out, accurate portrayal of Edward's thoughts, emotions, and development during Twilight. Rated M for themes and sexual overtones.
1. Theme from Chapter 5 Blood Type

I got to the cafeteria a few minutes late. I had sat in my car, having skipped my morning classes to quietly gloat about my success this morning with Bella Swan. I sat alone, ignoring the curious glances I was getting from my classmates and more importantly, my family. Of course, Alice knew why I was sitting alone, and I was sure that she would relay this new revelation to the rest of the family sooner or later. As I looked swiftly at them, I deduced that she had chosen sooner. Rosalie shot me one look that would kill if I weren't already dead, and I could only smile back at her.

I listened intently for Jessica Stanley's voice in my head, as I knew that Bella would enter the cafeteria with her after fourth period. I picked it up as soon as she mentioned Bella's name in her thoughts, and I willed myself to find them in the crowded room. I steeled myself as I took in a deep breath, and found her scent at the lunch line. Bella looked sad, almost disappointed as Jessica turned around to face me, and whispered to Bella, "Edward Cullen is staring at you again," with the slightest touch of disdain.

"_She's not even interesting_," she complained in her head, giving Bella a mental onceover. "I wonder why he's sitting along today," she said as her gaze shifted to the rest of my family sitting together at our usual table.

I watched Bella's reaction as her head snapped up and she searched me out with her eyes. I sat perfectly still and smiled at her from my empty table. I didn't want to scare her, or do anything wrong, so I made my intentions as clear as possible by raising my index finger and motioning her over to where I was sitting alone. I could hear Jessica's mundane chatter indignantly in my head, so to further exacerbate her, I winked.

I could see confusion, as well as embarrassment cross Bella's face as she tried to desperately come up with some excuse to sate Jessica's rude question, "Does he mean _you_?"

"Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework," she mumbled. I chuckled inwardly at her attempt. I knew more about Biology than even Mr. Banner's college professors. "Um, I'd better go see what he wants," she said as she turned and came toward where I was sitting. I felt another pang of annoyance at Jessica Stanley as she stared after Bella.

When she reached the table, I took in a deep breath as a wave of venom rushed into my mouth. I swallowed it down as my throat burned, and I exhaled deeply. It was easier every time.

"Why don't you sit with me today," I said politely, smiling at her as she stood unsure behind the seat.

She sat down quickly, eyeing me warily as I continued to smile at her. I was thoroughly still elated as I thought of my success this morning and could not conceal that in my face. I hadn't felt this way in a very long time, and every time I sat down to engage in a conversation with Bella, I found myself eager to know more about her. As much as not being able to hear her thoughts frustrated me, it also made the surprise of knowing what she thought worth it. And it was always a surprise.

"This is different," she stated finally.

"Well," I said, pausing. I knew that I was about to break almost every rule known to my kind. I knew that it was wrong, to be here with her acting as if this relationship was okay. I reasoned with myself that as long as I got her to understand that I was actually dangerous by the end of it, then it would be okay. If she still decided to be associated with me, I could blame it on her ignorance, and know that I had warned her sufficiently against me. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

She said nothing as I stared at her, and I waited for her to understand what I meant.

"You know I have no idea what you mean, " she pointed out after sixteen seconds.

"I know," I smiled at her again. I vaguely noticed Mike Newton's voice yelling at me in my head for eating lunch with Bella and told her, "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you."

"They'll survive," she said, offhandedly.

_But you might not_, I thought darkly to myself, as I took in another deep breath and washed down another mouthful of venom. "I may not give you back, though," I half-joked, gauging her reaction.

I heard her swallow loudly as her expression changed from slight annoyance to one of worry. Finally, I thought to myself. Maybe she finally understood what I was trying to tell her.

"You look worried, " I pointed out lightly, laughing at her expression.

"No," she said, unconvincingly. "Surprised actually… what brought all this on?"

I decided to go with the truth, as much as she didn't understand it. " I told you—I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." I tried to maintain a smile as I told her this, but my eyes stayed serious as they bored into hers. I scrutinized why I felt so compelled to be near her and the answer seemed out of reach as I took in another breath and swallowed another swatch of venom.

"Giving up?" she asked, confused.

"Yes—giving up trying to be good," I explained. "I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." My well-placed smile dissolved as another vision of Bella's broken body entered my mind. I could not bear to see that come true, so why was I still sitting here? Why was she so compelling? It wasn't that it was definitely going to happen—the last thing I wanted was to hurt her, but would staying away from her hurt her more than being there for her, placing myself in her life to be everything I could for her? Yes, if course it was better.

"You lost me again," she said, exasperated.

I smiled again as she spoke. "I always say too much when I'm talking to you—that's one of the problems." I always say too much, but it's never enough, because she still didn't get it.

"Don't worry—I don't understand any of it," she said.

"I'm counting on it," I countered back. I'm counting on more time with you, before you leave forever. Before you never want to be near me again. How long would I have before that time came, I thought to myself. An hour? A week? A month? Years? Would she been that foolish for that long? I deeply wished she would, I did not know what I would do with myself if she were no longer here, but I knew that this was also not possible.

"So, in plain English," she asked, breaking my concentration, "are we friends now?"

"Friends," I pondered, wondering if there were any other words I could use that would be more sufficient for what we were—what I wanted us to be. Soul mates seemed more adequate.

"Or not," she muttered, misunderstanding my musing.

I smiled at her again as I said, "Well, we can try, I supposed. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Looking into her eyes I could tell she was taking me seriously. This was good. I was giving her a choice.

"You say that a lot," she noted, out loud.

"Yes," I agreed instantly, "because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me." Another choice. What I was doing could hardly be constituted as wrong as long as I was giving her a choice. That's what was missing from my existence wasn't it? A choice? A way to make my own destiny. As long as I had a choice, I would forever present Bella with one too.

"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too," she stated, as her voice grew slightly more indignant.

I flashed her an apologetic smile.

"So, as long as I'm being… not smart," she stated as she struggled to put what I was suggesting into words, " we'll try to be friends?"

"That sounds about right."

I watched her as she wrapped her hands around her lemonade bottle and looked down. I was frustrated as I tried to listen solely to her voice in my head, but it never appeared.

"What are you thinking," I asked her, curious. That was a questions friends could ask one another.

She looked up at me, and her eyes became oddly clear.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."

My jaw clenched as I reflexively tried to think of ways to steer her away from this topic of conversation. If she was as observant as she seemed to be, it wouldn't surprise me if she hadn't found out what I was already at this point. I tried to keep my smile planted on my face as I attempted to coax her theories out of her, hoping each one to be as wrong as the next.

But what if she was right? What if she guessed correctly? Would I continue to talk to her? What would her reaction be? I found myself pondering the situations in which I could freely be myself around her, and I found them almost repulsing. I could kill her. I was a monster, and she deserved something so much better than me. Part of me wanted her to be right, so she could get over this infatuation of getting to know me and be normal, and live her life as normal people do.

"Are you having any luck with that?" I asked her offhandedly.

"Not too much," she admitted.

I laughed. "What are you theories?"

I became more curious as a blush crept into her cheeks and another wave of warmth and venom tried to take over. She was silent as I waited for her answer.

"Won't you tell me," I asked in a voice that rivaled the most persuasive. I felt bad for trying to coax the answer out of her this way, but I felt compelled to know what she was thinking. I needed to know if she knew what I was.

She shook her head vigorously. "Too embarrassing."

I groaned inwardly as I found myself complaining, "That's really frustrating you know."

"No," she disagreed quickly. "I cant imagine why that would be frustrating at all—just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what they possibly could mean…now, why would that be frustrating?"

I grimaced as I realized the extent of my evasiveness on her conscious.

"Or better," she continued, "say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things—from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, and he never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That would also be very non-frustrating."

Although I had listened to the truth behind everything she had just said, I could not help but notice how adorable she seemed when she was angry.

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"

"I don't like double-standards."

I stared at her as she glared at me. She was absurd! How could she dare assume that I didn't want to tell her the truth? I had been trying for the past month. There was nothing more dangerous for her than me, and here I was, trying to make it alright for the both of us. I was doing what I thought was necessary.

Mike Newton again interrupted my train of thought as he slew unprecedented amounts of swear words my way. I laughed as the image of him coming over to me to try to fight me for making Bella "angry" filled his mind.

"What?" Bella said impatiently.

"You boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you—he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." I laughed again, despite myself.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bella stated frostily, as her heartbeat sped up. "But I'm sure you're wrong anyway."

"I'm not," I stated surely. "I told you," reminding her, "most people are easy to read."

"Except me, of course," she stated.

"Yes," I echoed back to her anxious, "except for you. I wonder why that is."

I stared at her intently again, for what felt like the millionth time as I attempted to hear her thoughts. I was again, met with silence.

"Aren't you hungry," I asked her, distracting myself.

"No," she said quietly. "You?"

I smiled to myself as I considered for a brief second answering this question honestly. I wasn't hungry, technically. Just dying of thirst. _Ha_, I thought to myself, _not even dying. I was already dead._

"No, I'm not hungry."

"Can you do me a favor," she asked suddenly.

My first instinct was to say no, but I felt that compromise would be the best route to take.

"That depends on what you want."

"It's not much," she assured me.

I waited for her to ask, readying a plethora of responses for whatever her question would be.

"I just wondered…if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my own good. Just so I'm prepared."

She kept her eyes downward as she spoke, and I heard her heart speed up as I felt an unfamiliar pang of guilt as I looked at her. Did my staying away from her make her sad? I was momentarily elated at the prospect of this idea, and I fought a smile as I responded to her.

"That sounds fair."

"Thanks."

"Then can I have one answer in return," I asked her suddenly.

"One," she clarified.

"Tell me one theory." This was, after all part of the reason I invited her to sit with me. I wanted to know if she knew what I was.

"Not that one."

"You didn't qualify," I countered, " you just promised one answer."

"And you've broken promises yourself," she countered back.

"Just one theory," I tried again. "I won't laugh."

"Yes, you will," she disagreed.

I looked down, trying to pull together my most convincing face, before looking up at her through my eyelashes. "Please?" I breathed, leaning into her slightly.

She blinked and I knew I had won.

"Er, what?" she asked, dazed.

"Please tell me just one little theory."

"Um, well, bitten by a radioactive spider?"

I leaned back swiftly as I scoffed my relief. "That's not very creative."

"I'm sorry, that's all I've got," she said a bit huffily.

"You're not even close," I teased her, inwardly enjoying her annoyance.

"No spiders?" she asked again.

"Nope."

"And no radioactivity?"

"None."

"Dang," she sighed.

"Kryptonite doesn't bother me either," I said chuckling, eliminating that choice for her also.

"You're not supposed to laugh, remember," she reminded me.

I tried my best to compose my face. Here I was worried that she had me figured out, and she was focused on me being the good guy! I was so far from any image she had in mind that I found the idea laughable. I was the worst thing around.

"I'll figure it out eventually," she warned me.

"I wish you wouldn't try," I sighed. I enjoyed her company. It would be a shame when I no longer had her around.

"Because…?" she asked.

"What if I'm not the superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?"

I smiled playfully at my clever analogy, but I conveyed that I was far from joking with my eyes.

"Oh," she said quietly, as her eyes got wider with understanding. "I see."

Did she really? Had I finally said enough that she understood what I had been telling her from the beginning?

"Do you?" I asked incredulously.

"You're dangerous," she asked, disbelieving. I could hear her pulse quicken and her breathing change slightly as she took in the severity of my words. Would this be the moment? Nineteen minutes and twenty-three seconds into our first very real conversation? Would she turn and leave me forever? I could not bring myself to be completely saddened; I had expected this from the moment I called her over. From the moment I laid eyes on her.

"But not bad," she continued, miraculously. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."

She really was absurd. She needed to understand!

"You're wrong," I said, in a voice smaller than I thought I was capable of. I felt bad, I felt selfish—I didn't really want her to go, although I knew she should. I had never felt so conflicted as I did now.

I turned my eyes away from her and tried to erase the again present image of her broken body as I turned her bottle cap in my hands. I could feel her gaze on me, but I could not bring myself to meet her sincere brown eyes. She was so honest, and I was a liar and a fool. I was ashamed of my behavior, to lead her to believe I was anything less than the monster I knew myself to be.

I stayed perfectly still as I listened to her heart murmur the reassurance I needed. _Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

She jumped to her feet as her heart skipped a perfect beat. "We're going to be late."

I continued to look at the top in my hand as I hid my smile. "I'm not going to class today."

"Why not?" she demanded, her voice wavering slightly at the end.

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then," I finally smiled at her, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, I'm going then," she told me.

I turned my gaze back to the top in my hands. "I'll see you later, then."

How interesting that my life had become like the top I now held in my possessions. Once so firmly adjusted atop something familiar, to be torn off and sent into a plethora of possibilities, did I end up back on my familiar base, or did I end up thrown away, cast to be damned forevermore? I pocketed the top, a reminder of this pivotal conversation.

There was no way that I was going to sit thought Biology while they pricked themselves to draw their blood types. I knew my blood type. O positive. Universal. Any blood was my blood type. Today was always a day that I was glad to miss, and I found myself no more content than I was during my lunch conversation with Bella than I was as I walked out of the cafeteria to my car after the second bell rang.

Why was she so different? Why did I care about her so much? Why did she care about me so much? I wasn't nearly as interesting as she was. Her mind worked in the most mysterious way; I never knew what she was thinking. Anytime I thought I was close, I was always farther off the mark than before.

I sat in my car and put in my favorite Debussy CD to clear my mind. I could hear thoughts buzzing around in my head, and I tried to clear them all out except for Mike Newton, who I knew would be watching Bella for me during Biology. This was the only useful thing about Mike Newton. Whenever I couldn't watch Bella, he certainly did the job for me. His thoughts were a little more than I could handle, on the contrary, so instead of listening to them, I focused on Bella in my mind, and tried to pick out every different instrument I could hear in the fluid orchestral piece floating around me. As I listened, the melody playing around me was drowned out by aggravated shouts from Mike Newton's head.

_What do I do? Is she going to pass out_, I heard him think.

I looked in my rearview mirror to see Bella slumped against the sidewalk, Mike Newton standing over her with a horror filled face, her skin chalk white. I was out of the car and had gained ten feet to Bella's current position in an eighty-fourth of a second. I looked around and slowed myself to human pace in case anyone was watching, and decided it would be best for all parties involved if I made my presence known.

"Bella?" I called, loud enough for her and Mike to hear me. Panic began to sweep through me as her reaction was delayed more than usual, and I could hear her heart beating slower than usual. _Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. _

"What's wrong," I demanded of Mike in my nicest, most threatening voice—if the two could even be matched together. "Is she hurt," I demanded again as he took two, three, four, five seconds to comprehend what I was asking him.

"I think she's fainted. I don't know what happened, she didn't even stick her finger," he said, bewildered. I felt a fleeting stab of pity for poor Mike Newton, who genuinely had no clue what he was doing at all, and at the mention of 'sticking fingers' I was instantly annoyed again. The scent of his blood rushed into my nostrils and I felt my muscles tighten in response to the semi-fresh blood in his pocket. I chose to ignore him and focus on Bella instead, and turned to scrutinize her on the ground, her face pressed to the cement.

"Bella," I asked her, relieved that she was breathing. "Can you hear me?"

"No," she groaned, as her heart sped up slightly. "Go away."

I laughed at her feeble attempts to be independent. Did she have any inkling that I would dare to leave her alone again?

"I was taking her to the nurse," Mike said to me, in a dignified tone, "but she wouldn't go any farther."

I looked at him out of the corner of my eye before deciding it would be more polite to actually provide him with an answer.

"I'll take her," I said, mostly because I knew I could get her there quickly and safely, and also because I knew he would hate me for it. "You can go back to class."

"No," Mike protested, "I'm supposed to do it."

I suddenly became aware at how childish arguing with him was, so instead of responding, took in a deep breath, swallowed the venom that marinated my mouth, and scooped Bella off the ground and into my arms. I held her away from my body, but I could still feel her heat permeating off of her body.

"Put me down," she whined, her eyes closed.

"Hey," Mike yelled after me.

"You look awful," I said to Bella as I carried her to the nurse's office. Her eyes flickered open and she gave me an honest look of disapproval as I teased her.

"Put me back on the sidewalk," she said, groaning.

I put all the events that had just taken place in chronological order, and fought to not laugh at the irony of it all. Here I was, in love with a girl who, by the looks of her, fainted at the sight of blood. My existence, on the contrary, was situated around seeking out just that. Blood.

"So you faint at the sight of blood," I asked, putting my thoughts in to words.

She answered by closing her eyes and clamping her mouth shut. Maybe I shouldn't tease her as much as I did. But I couldn't resist jabbing her a bit more.

"And not even your own blood," I said, smiling at her.

I had finally reached the office. I opened the door with one hand and placed it right back underneath her—I had done it so fast, she would not have noticed the change in my grip on her.

"Oh my," Mrs. Cope exclaimed, looking up to see Bella in my arms.

"She fainted in Biology," I explained in my most soothing voice.

Bella opened her eyes as I placed her down on the brown mattress in the corner. I walked swiftly across the room to watch her from a distance, because the heat in the room and the heat coming from her body were making me extremely tense. My body was almost in pain as I stood in the corner and watched her, while taking in deep, deliberate breaths in hopes of desensitizing myself in the slightest. But while I stood, in that second, I also registered that I had succeeded in holding her—holding—while bringing her to safety. Bella had been in my arms and I had not killed her! She was still breathing, still living, her heart still beating, slowly and steadily.

"She's just a little faint," I offered to the nurse. "They're blood typing in Biology."

She nodded at me astutely, "There's always one."

I tried to quiet my laugh as I calculated the possibility that it would indeed be the one I chose to revolve my universe around.

"Just lie down for a minute honey; it'll pass," she reassured Bella.

Something in Bella's face told me that she had this experience often.

"I know," she said, confirming my thoughts.

"Does this happen a lot," the nurse asked her kindly.

"Sometimes," she admitted, shooting me a look.

I coughed to hide another laugh.

"You can go back to class now," she said, looking at me sternly over her glasses.

I sobered up immediately and lied with perfect audacity and said, "I'm supposed to stay with her."

She looked at me for a moment before letting the issue drop. It worked fine with her, why didn't it work with Bella? She would have asked for some form of proof. She just knew too much.

Turning to Bella she added, "I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear."

As she left the room, Bella finally addressed me.

"You were right," she moaned, her eyes closing.

I stood alarmed for a moment, until I willed myself to calm down.

"I usually am," I half-joked, "but about what in particular this time?"

"Ditching_ is_ healthy," she huffed.

I looked at her and imagined what it would be like to not have her breathing, alive and was instantly overcome with sadness. I found that I was actually scared that I had lost her. That I would have no more time with her before our time together even began. I wanted to tell her this without scaring her, so I played with the words in my head for a moment before speaking.

"You scared me for a minute there," I said to her. Although I said it lightly, I could not hide the slight agony in my tone. "I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."

Dead Bella jokes were not funny.

"Ha ha," she said, humoring me.

"Honestly," I continued, feeling better that she was responding to me, "I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder."

I looked at her as I said this, and I wondered if she took anything I was saying seriously. Because I was completely, irrevocably one hundred percent serious. I would have killed him, and I found myself capable of admitting it.

"Poor Mike. I'll bet he's mad," she said, mockingly.

"He absolutely loathes me, " I said happily.

"You can't know that," she said, trying to make me—or herself feel better.

"I saw his face," I said lightly. "I could tell." Plus he was practically screaming it in my head.

"How did you see me?" she asked suddenly. "I thought you were ditching."

I instantly told her the truth; "I was in my car, listening to a CD."

The door finally reopened, and the nurse handed Bella a cold compress.

"Here you go, dear," she said, placing the compress on Bella's forehead. "You're looking better."

"I think I'm fine," Bella said, sitting up.

My head turned slightly in the direction of the door as I heard footsteps coming toward the building we were in now. Twenty seconds later, Ms. Cope stuck her heard through the door, "We've got another one."

Bella scooted off the table onto the floor, and handed the compress back to the nurse.

"Here," she said, giving it to her. "I don't need this."

At that moment Mike staggered into the room with Lee Stephens, and I felt my muscles tense as the smell of fresh blood and the wave of venom hit my throat at the same time.

"Oh no," I moaned. "Get out of the office, Bella."

She looked up at me, disapprovingly.

"Trust me," I said as warningly as I could. "Go."

She turned around and left the office as I followed behind her closely.

"You actually listened to me," I said astonished as we walked outside into the waiting room. I half expected to carry her out the room.

"I smelled the blood," she said, wrinkling her perfect nose.

"People can't smell blood," I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.

"Well, I can," she countered back, indignantly. "That's what makes me sick. It smells like rust—and salt."

I stared at her. Rust? Salt? Smelling? She amazed more every second. No, blood did not smell like rust or salt, and there was no reason why she should even be able to smell blood. But, I thought to myself at the same time, if anyone would be able to smell blood, and want to faint at the sight of it, it would be Bella. Did she think her blood smelled that way? If she did, she was so incorrect. Her blood smelled so far from rust…but I could not think about her blood right now. I could not think about her blood ever.

"What?" she asked, breaking my concentration.

"It's nothing," I said.

Mike Newton burst through the door at that moment, and looked at Bella and I standing there in the cold.

"You look better," he said grudgingly.

"Just keep your hand in your pocket," she snapped.

"It's not bleeding anymore," he muttered. "Are you going back to class?"

"Are you kidding?" she asked, looking like him as if he had grown a head. "I'd just have to turn around and come back."

"Yeah, I guess…So, are you going this weekend? To the beach?"

He looked at me as he spoke, a clear invitation for me to uninvite myself from the situation. I ignored him as he finished his conversation.

"Sure," she said shrugging. "I said I was in."

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten."

He looked at me, and I almost let my mouth twitch in annoyance.

"I'll be there," Bella promised again.

"I'll see you in Gym then," he said, moving to the door.

"See you," Bella said, a hint of edginess in her voice.

He turned, defeated out of the door, leaving Bella and I alone once again.

"Gym," she groaned as soon as the door was closed.

"I can take care of that," I said suddenly, looking at her. "Go sit down and look pale," I muttered to her out the side of my mouth.

I walked over to Ms. Cope with my most persuasive face on.

"Ms. Cope," I said softly.

"Yes," she breathed into me.

I noticed that when she looked at me, like Bella, her heart sped up, but in her case it was because she found me physically attractive. Could this also be the same case with Bella? I found myself excited with the entertainment of that idea.

"Bella has Gym next period and I don't think she's feeling well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take her home now. Do you think you could excuse her from class?" I said all of this quietly, and refused to take my eyes off of hers.

"Do you need to be excused too, Edward," she asked me slowly.

"No, I have Mrs. Goff. She won't mind."

"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Bella," she added to Bella over my shoulder.

I gave Ms. Cope one final smile, and turned to face Bella again, my expression one of mocking sarcasm.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again," I asked her.

"I'll walk," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly.

I held the door open for her, and as she walked out of the office, her hair grazed my hand. It was so soft, I felt oddly compelled to touch it.

"Thanks," she said, as I closed the door behind me. "It was almost worth getting sick to miss Gym."

"Anytime," I said, looking straight ahead of me.

"So are you going?" she asked me, offhandedly. "This Saturday I mean?"

_If only I could_, I thought to myself. Anytime that I wasn't near Bella I felt myself slowly going more and more insane.

"Where are you all going, exactly," I asked her slowly.

"Down to La Push, to First Beach," she said looking at me.

I struggled to maintain a straight face as I looked down at her expression. It was hopeful, and I felt guilty for having to turn her down.

"I really don't think I was invited," I said, choosing my words carefully.

She sighed at me. "I just invited you."

I was elated that she wanted my company, especially when I was less desired by the company she inadvertently kept. "Let's you and I not push poor Mike any further this week. We don't want him to snap."

"Mike-shmike," she muttered.

We were almost to the parking lot now, and I found myself momentarily confused as she began to turn left toward her car. I reflexively pulled her back to my side, my body suddenly rigid.

"Where do you think you're going," I asked her angrily. I took a deep breath as I tried to recompose myself. Why was I so angry that she was trying to take herself home? I should have expected that someone as stubborn as her would think herself okay to drive herself home after nearly fainting. And at the sight of blood, no less.

"I'm going home," she trailed off, confused.

"Didn't you hear me promise to take you safely home?" I asked her. "Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?"

"What condition," she complained. "And what about my truck?"

I tugged her arm to get her walking again while slipping her keys out of her pocket. "I'll have Alice drop it off after school."

"Let go!" she exclaimed as I continued to all but drag her to my car. She stumbled as I finally let go of her, and I was briefly concerned that she had hurt herself.

"You are so _pushy_!" she said loudly as I walked around to the other side of the car.

"It's open," I said as I got into the car. I was annoyed that she seemed to believe that I was not at all concerned with her safety. Had I not made it clear that I found her safety to be one of my highest priorities? And here she was, thinking she could drive herself home, especially in this weather.

"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home," she said arguing. It was beginning to rain harder, and I was starting to worry that she would get sick, but I simply could not allow her to attempt to drive herself home. I took in a deep breath and lowered the window. Leaning across the seat, I stuck my head almost all the way out the window and said, "Get in, Bella."

She didn't answer me. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she looked from my car to hers across the parking lot.

"I'll just drag you back," I warned her, guessing her thoughts.

She looked haughty as she opened the door and slumped into the seat. Her demeanor didn't change as I rolled up her window and began to turn up the heat so she wouldn't be so cold.

"This is completely unnecessary," she sniffed, as I turned on the CD that had been playing earlier. I hoped she liked classical.

"Clair de Lune," she asked, surprised.

"You know Debussy," I asked back.

"Not well," she admitted. "My mother plays a lot of classical music around the house—I only know my favorites."

"It's one of my favorites too," I mused as I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

As I took at deep breath I realized there were some things about this ride home that I did not count on. Firstly, I did not anticipate what I would speak to her about. I knew that I could just ask questions, but I did not know which ones would be too personal—I wanted to know everything about her. Secondly, and more importantly, I didn't anticipate on her scent to saturate every surface of the car, especially with the heater on and her soaked in rain. I felt my muscles tense and the familiar burning in my throat as I swallowed another swatch of venom.

_Feel the burn_, I thought dryly.

"What's your mother like," I asked her, to distract myself.

She looked at me before answering.

"She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier," she said and I raised my eyes. Bella was the single most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. I doubt her mother was anything better looking than she was. I raised my eyebrows as she continued. "I have too much Charlie in me. She's more outgoing than I am, and braver. She's irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's a very unpredictable cook. She's my best friend," she said, as her tone got increasingly sadder.

"How old are you, Bella," I asked her. She spoke to me as if she were so far older. I couldn't figure her out. She could smell blood, whatever _that_ meant, she was far more perceptive than any other human I had ever encountered, she had the self-preservation instincts of a cadaver, yet she was soft like a human, and certainly smelled like one…but I couldn't pin her as completely normal, at all.

"I'm seventeen," she said, confused.

"You don't seem seventeen," I countered.

She laughed, and I looked at her, frustrated.

"What?" I asked.

"My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." She laughed then sighed. "Well, someone has to be the adult." She paused as she quickly contemplated something over in her head. "You don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself," she said, gauging my reaction.

I made a face at her attempt to turn the conversation on me, and I changed the subject.

"So why did your mother marry Phil?" I asked.

"My mother…she's very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she's crazy about him," she said, shaking her head.

"Do you approve," I asked her.

"Does it matter," she asked. "I want her to be happy…and he is who she wants."

"That's very generous," I said slowly. "I wonder," I continued, trailing off. Would her mother approve of me? No matter what I was? Or what I was not?

"What?" she asked, breaking my thoughts.

"Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?" I asked, turning my thoughts into words.

"I-I think so," she stuttered, confused. "But she's the parent, after all. It's a little bit different."

"No one too scary then," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

She grinned in response to my joke, and I felt a rush of euphoria. "What do you mean by scary? Multiple facial piercing and extensive tattoos?"

"That's one definition, I suppose," I said.

"What's your definition?"

_Me_, I thought. But I chose not to voice that opinion and instead asked her another question. "Do you think that I could be scary?"

I raised one eyebrow to lighten the severity of my question, but her answer was still pertinent all the same.

"Hmmm…I think you could be, if you wanted to," she answered finally.

"Are you frightened of me now?" I asked her seriously.

"No," she said quickly. "So, now are you going to tell me about your family," she asked me. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."

I considered telling her that I wouldn't tell her anything, but remembering our conversation from lunch, I decided against it. "What do you want to know?"

"The Cullens adopted you," she asked, more of a statement than a question.

"Yes."

"What happened to your parents," she asked slowly.

"They died many years ago," I answered honestly.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Holding back a smile, I said, "I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now."

"And you love them," she stated.

"Yes," I said, unable to hide my smile. "I couldn't imagine two better people."

"You're very lucky," she said.

_Given the extenuating circumstances,_ I thought. "I know I am."

"And your brother and sister?" she asked again.

Her question reminded me that I still indeed had to pick up my siblings from school.

"My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go," she said, sounding slightly disappointed.

"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident," I said back, grinning.

"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks," she mused.

I barked a laugh. _Of course there aren't_, I thought sardonically.

"Have fun at the beach…good weather for sun-bathing," I said, glancing out into the rain.

"Won't I see you tomorrow?" she asked hopefully.

"No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early." I couldn't help but feel happy that she would miss my presence.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."

"Oh, well, have fun," she said quietly.

I tried to refrain from smiling as I looked at her.

"Will you do something for me this weekend," I asked her, looking her straight in the face.

She nodded enthusiastically.

"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So…try not t fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right," I said, smiling crookedly. I knew she would get angry, and a very vivid image of a growling kitten came into mind.

"I'll see what I can do," she snapped, as she jumped out of the car and slammed the door.

_By the way, I love you_, I thought to myself as I drove away smiling.


	2. Theme from Chapter 8 Port Angeles

I knew that Bella would be going into Port Angeles to help Jessica Stanley and Angela Weber find dresses to the prom. I didn't understand why she really was going—Bella didn't seem like the type of person to choose silk from satin from lace. I watched her in the minds of Jessica and Angela as they traveled from store to store along the quiet streets of Port Angeles. After a few hours, my attention was heightened when Bella told Angela she wanted to go to a bookstore.

I felt myself become tense as I tried to focus on Bella in the minds of strangers, who didn't think about her for more than a moment. She reached a bookstore that I knew would hold no interest to her, and was confused when she left and turned the wrong way onto the next street. From my parked car, a half a mile over, I felt a strong compulsion to follow her and bring her back to safety. I decided against it—I didn't want to answer and hard questions or scare her at all. Besides, I knew she was perfectly safe, yet something kept me on alert. As she continued to walk through the few minds that were left, I realized that I was losing her all together.

I started my car and began to drive toward where I saw her go in my mind. As I drove, I began to hear new voices in my head.

_Look at that one,_ I heard the man think as he looked at Bella turning the corner. _We are going to have a party tonight._ I clenched the steering wheel as I watched him walk toward Bella.

"Hey there!" I heard him call to her, drunkenly. As I watched through his mind, I saw that he was not alone and this increased my anxiety further. Bella looked up as he called her name, and I silently swore to myself.

"Hello," she mumbled, and I barked a laugh at her ignorance. Should I act now? Or should I wait?

"Hey, wait," another one of them called as she turned a corner and I lost sight of her again. I was becoming increasingly worried as she walked, I could not stand having her come in and out of my focus, especially when it was getting so dark and she was so vastly outnumbered. I crept along in my car, widely circling the four blocks in which I was seeing the men close in on in my head. I became tenser as their intentions became clear.

As I circled for the fourth time, their thoughts came back into focus, and for a wild second I wished they had not. Fury rolled through me as my muscles tensed and a fresh wave of venom took over my mouth. I couldn't control my breathing as I struggled to not break the steering wheel.

"There you are," I heard in my head, as I saw one of the men coming toward Bella.

"Yeah, we just took a little detour," I heard from another one. I turned onto a street and accelerated slightly as I tried to pinpoint their exact location.

"Stay away from me," I heard Bella whisper as she her face contorted in a look of concentration. Why was she not crying? She looked calm, almost as if she were thinking. I could not dwell on it long as another disgusting vision from one of the men entered my head and I sped up further while a snarl ripped through my throat.

"Don't be like that sugar," one of them said, closing in on her. I pushed down on the gas pedal as I turned another corner, almost losing control of the car. I almost hit a short, stocky man who jumped onto the sidewalk and out of my car's way. I accelerated and fishtailed around while opening the passenger side door in the process.

"Get in," was all I could manage to say as Bella scrambled into the passenger seat.

I pushed on the acceleration as I headed north, away from the voices that coaxed me to kill.

"Put on your seatbelt," I growled at Bella as I continued to drive north, attempting to control my emotions and increase the distance between myself and the voices.

"Are you okay?" she asked me suddenly, her voice hoarse.

"No," I said curtly, trying to keep my tone in check. My muscles burned with the pain that ripped through them, and I knew that I needed a distraction. I was so close to turning the car around and finding those four men…I needed a distraction. Bella was the only thing keeping me as close to sane as I could be in that moment and I needed to hear her voice.

"Bella," I asked, my voice strenuously controlled.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice still rough. _I need to get her food_, I noted to myself.

"Are you all right?" I asked her.

"Yes," she said softly.

"Distract me, please," I demanded quietly.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked, confused.

I tried to keep my tone in check as I explained to her what I needed her to do. "Just prattle about something unimportant until I calm down," I clarified, as I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head.

"Um," I heard her say. "I'm going to run over Tyler Crowley tomorrow before school?" she said, unconvincingly.

I held back a smile as my mouth twitched. "Why?" I asked, coaxing an answer from her.

"He's telling everyone that he's taking me to prom—either he's insane or he's still trying to make up from almost killing me last…well you remember it, and he thinks _prom_ is somehow the correct way to do this. So I figure if I endanger his life, then we're even, and he can't keep trying to make amends. I don't need enemies and maybe Lauren would back off is he left me alone. I might have to total his Sentra, though. If he doesn't have a ride he can't take anyone to prom…"she continued.

"I heard about that," I managed, as her distractions began to shift my attention. It still wasn't enough by far; my mind was too complex for that.

"You did," she asked in disbelief. "If he's paralyzed from the neck down, he can't go to prom, either," she clarified.

I sighed, and opened my eyes as I cut the engine.

"Better," she asked me quietly.

"Not really," I answered honestly, taking in a deep breath and surrounding myself with her scent. I leaned my head back against the seat and sat still.

"What's wrong," she asked me, her voice a whisper.

"Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Bella," I whispered back, trying to control my voice. I looked out the window as I continued to speak. "But it wouldn't be helpful for me to turn around and down those…"I struggled to keep my sentence incomplete. "At least, that's what I'm trying to convince myself."

"Oh," she said, and I wondered fleetingly if I was scaring her. She remained silent, and I felt comparably calmed by the sound of her heart beating. _Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. _The sound of her heart was like a mantra to keep my emotions in check.

"Jessica and Angela will be worried," she said finally, disappointed. "I was supposed to meet them."

I started the engine at the invitation for further distractions and drove us into town. In less than three minutes I was back into town and parallel parking against the curb near the Italian restaurant I saw Jessica and Angela at in my mind.

"How did you know where…" she asked, trailing off before shaking her head.

"What are you doing?" she began again as I got out of the car and began to close the door.

"I'm taking you to dinner," I said, smiling slightly. I knew that as long as she was with me, I would be adequately distracted, and I pined for as much alone time with her as I was allowed. I watched her work her seatbelt undone and stumble out of the car and onto the sidewalk.

"Go stop Jessica and Angela before I have to track them down, too," I said quietly. "I don't think I could restrain myself if I ran into your other friends again."

I saw her shiver and she picked up on the threat in my voice.

"Jess! Angela!" I heard her yell as I watched her begin to walk quickly toward them, then stop and return to my side.

"Where have you been, " Jessica asked, her voice suspicious.

"I got lost," she admitted. "Then I ran into Edward."

"Would it be alright if I joined you," I asked them, in my most soothing voice.

"Er…sure," Jessica stuttered. I suppressed a laugh as I listened to her heart falter. Of all the fantasies and daydreamed conversations she had with me—and this was the best she could do?

"Um, actually, Bella, we already ate while we were waiting—sorry," Angela said sincerely.

"That's fine," Bella said, shrugging. "I'm not hungry."

Was she absurd? I was beginning to think that half of the time, her mind was permanently stuck between stubborn and crazy.

"I think you should eat something," I said in a low voice. _Besides_, I thought to myself. _I need you to distract me from doing awful and dangerous things_. I knew this was selfish but I couldn't help myself.

"Do you mind if I drive Bella home tonight? That way you won't have to wait while she eats," I suggested demurely.

"Uh, no problem, I guess…" Jessica said, trailing off, eyeing Bella with an appraising look on her face. I studied Bella's face as her expression changed from shock to one of elation as she winked at Jessica.

"Okay," said Angela, picking up on both my and Bella's impatience. "See you tomorrow, Bella…Edward."

I watched them as they walked away, confused and dazed. Maybe I shouldn't send them home that way…Jessica took that moment to turn around and wave at Bella, jealousy and rage permeating her mind. I found myself compelled to protect Bella from all the Jessicas' of the world as she got in her car to drive away.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry," Bella tried again, looking up at me.

"Humor me," I said back flatly.

I turned around and walked to the front of the restaurant, holding open the door for Bella. I looked at her with an absolute expression—one that suggested that there was no further discussion, but I knew that deep down, if she truly wanted to leave, I wouldn't stop her. I would always offer her a choice, I reminded myself. She walked past me and into the restaurant without further argument, and sighed.

The small place wasn't crowded, and I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose at the unappealing smell of garlic bread and pasta. The host eyed me seductively but I paid no attention as I asked for a table for two. I did not let her eye flicker to Bella go past me, and I worked to maintain a polite demeanor. She led us to a table in the center of the restaurant, where it was most busy, and I wanted to laugh in irritation.

"Perhaps something more private," I asked, slipping her a heavy tip.

"Sure," she replied, sounding surprised. She led us instead to a small booth that was off the main restaurant. "How's this?"

"Perfect," I replied, smiling at her widely.

"Um," she said, her heart stuttering, "Your server will be right out."

"You really shouldn't do that to people," Bella said as she sat down. "It's hardly fair."

"Do what?" I asked innocently.

"Dazzle them like that," she explained seriously. "She's probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now."

I looked at her with a confused expression, waiting for the joke. But the longer I stared at her, the more I realized she wasn't joking.

"Oh, come on," she said, exasperatedly. "You have to know the effect you have on people."

I tilted my head to one side, and stared at her curiously. "I dazzle people?" The idea of being dazzling was new to me. I knew that I could hold people's attention quite well, but I always thought it was just because I looked good.

"You haven't noticed? Do you think everybody gets their way so easily?" she asked.

As she said this, a shocking thought occurred to me. "Do I dazzle you?" I asked her, ignoring her questions.

"Frequently," she admitted almost instantly.

I held back a smile as our server appeared at the table. I hardly noticed her tell us her name and ask for our drinks as I mused over the affect that Bella claimed I had on her. How often did I dazzle her? Did it bother her? Was that the reason that her heart fluttered and her words came out jumbled? Did it mean she liked me a fraction of the amount that I liked her?

"I'll have a Coke," I heard Bella say, pulling me out of my musings again. Humans in shock usually needed a lot of sugar. I remember going to school for it in the eighties.

"Two Cokes," I clarified.

"I'll be right back with that," she said assuring, and I ignored her less than civil thoughts as I looked at Bella.

"What?" she asked me, when the waitress left.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her. She should be confused. Shaken. Tired. Not…_normal_. She was acting as if we took a walk around the block and this was another normal situation.

"I'm fine," she replied, uncertainly.

"You don't feel dizzy, sick, cold…?" I asked, trailing off.

"Should I?" she asked, confused.

I laughed at her tone. She should know how she feels better than I did.

"Well, I'm actually waiting for you to go into shock," I said, honestly, smiling at her. I knew she didn't like to be thought of as weak, but I couldn't resist teasing her.

"I don't think that will happen," she said. "I've always been very good at repressing unpleasant things."

"Just the same," I replied, noting how much she didn't like being taken care of, "I'll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you."

As I said these words, the waitress reappeared with a bread basket and the Cokes.

"Are you ready to order," she asked me.

"Bella?" I asked her, making sure to place all my focus on the girl in front of me, and not the waitress.

"Um…I'll have the mushroom ravioli."

"And you?" she asked me with a smile.

I continued to look at Bella as I responded, "Nothing for me."

"Let me know if you change your mind," she said, still smiling. I could see Bella eyeing her warily, as her heart sped up slightly, and I wondered why. I took no interest in anything but her. Could she see that?

"Drink," I told Bella after several seconds.

As she took her first sip, I began to feel better, but soon she had finished the entire glass. I pushed the other one toward her, an appraising look on my face.

"Thanks," she muttered, shivering.

"Are you cold?" I asked her.

"It's just the Coke," she explained, shivering again. I scanned the seat and noticed that she didn't have a jacket.

"Don't you have a jacket," I asked her disapprovingly. Did she have any inklings of self-preservation at all?

"Yes," she replied, looking around her seat. "Oh—I left it in Jessica's car."

Before she was finished her sentence, I was taking off my jacket. It was too big for her by far, but I found myself excited at the idea of her in my clothing. I noticed her looking at my sweater as she shrugged my jacket on and shoved up the sleeves.

"Thanks," she said again.

I looked down at the jacket on her, and found that I was taken with the deep blue sweater she was wearing. It fell in contrast to her ivory skin, and her deep mahogany hair fell to her breast her neckline plunged. I felt an unfamiliar stir deep in my center and struggled to refrain from touching her skin.

"That color blue looks lovely with your skin," I said finally. I could tell she was surprised. She blushed, and I savored the feeling of the heat radiating off of her in the small space.

I pushed the breadbasket toward her as I noticed her not eating.

"Really, I'm not going into shock," she told me.

"You should be," I said back. "A _normal_ person would be. You don't even look shaken," I said dubiously. She should be shaken. _Although_, I argued with myself, _Bella hardly acted normal_. She had proven that to me on more than one occasion since we had first met.

"I feel very safe with you," she said surely.

I felt my eyebrow furrow in frustration. This did not make things easier. I felt the struggle of power begin in my head as I calculated the circumstances. While the new, more rash side of me found this news elating, the more disciplined side knew this was dangerous. I knew that it was not good for her to feel safe around me. The image of her broken body once again filled my mind, like a permanent scar, the inevitability of what could and would happen if I were to be alone and out of control with Bella in my presence.

"This is more complicated that I planned," I murmured, shaking my head.

She picked up a breadstick and began to nibble on the end of it, eyeing my expression.

"Usually you're in a better mood when your eyes are so light," she mused, making conversation. The conversation I tried to avoid.

"What," I asked her flatly.

"You're always crabbier when your eyes are black—I expect it then," she explained. "I have a theory about that."

How did she know? I knew that she was observant—I could deny that no longer, but this was far and beyond anything that I was expecting. This was dangerous. She shouldn't know anything, yet I couldn't help but feel slightly relieved that there was another secret I didn't have to try to keep. Instead of letting her know that she was right, I chose to ignore her statement…almost.

"More theories," I asked.

"Mm-hm," she said chewing on the breadstick, attempting to look indifferent.

"I hope you were more creative this time…or are you still stealing from comic books," I asked her nonchalantly. I tried to sound mocking, but I knew that I was still on guard, and it was showing.

"Well, no, I didn't get it from a comic book, but I didn't come up with it on my own, either," she confessed.

I found myself confused as I listened to her explanation. "And?" I asked her.

But at that moment, our waitress barged through the partition with Bella's meal in hand.

"Did you change your mind?" she asked quickly. "Isn't there anything I can get you?"

I could not help but hear the double meaning in her words, and wanted nothing more than to show her where her rude fantasies would lead her.

"No, thank you," I said, always the gentleman. "But some more soda would be nice."

"Sure," she said, removing the glasses and walking away.

"You were saying," I asked Bella, drawing her attention back to our previous conversation.

"I'll tell you about it in the car. If…" she said pausing.

She had conditions? "There are conditions?" I asked her, raising an eyebrow. Was she attempting to compromise with me?

"I do have a few questions, of course."

"Of course," I echoed, amused.

The waitress brought back the Cokes and left again without a word.

"Well, go ahead," I said, hiding my impatience as well as I could.

"Why are you in Port Angeles?"

I mused at how invasive her questions would get as I mulled over answering this one in particular. I didn't want to lie to Bella, but I just as well couldn't tell her what I was doing in Port Angeles—it would lead to other questions that I definitely could not answer honestly, and I hated to lie to her. I chose to get around answering in the smoothest, and most unfair way I knew—by being evasive.

I looked down at my hands and folded them together, while looking at her over my eyelashes. "Next," I said smoothly.

"But that's the easiest one," she objected.

_I beg to differ_, I thought. _If I told you why I was here, you'd never want to speak to me again. I'm here because you're here. I'm here because I can't stay away. I feel compelled to look after you. I'm everywhere you go_. "Next," I repeated.

She looked down, a look of frustration on her face. I wished that I could smooth out her brow and make that look forever disappear from her face, but I knew that I could not. It was not safe. I was not safe. I didn't trust myself enough yet.

"Okay, then," she said, after taking a bite of ravioli. "Let's say, hypothetically, of course, that…someone…could know what people were thinking, read minds, you know—with a few exceptions," she said, choosing her words carefully. I chose to play along, I felt less guilty about being honest that way.

"Just one exception," I emphasized, "hypothetically."

"All right, with one exception then," she said, relief flooding her features that I was playing along. "How does that work? What are the limitations? How would…that someone…find someone else at exactly the right time? How would he know she was in trouble?"

"Hypothetically?" I asked her, skeptical.

"Sure."

"Well, if… that someone…" I began.

"Let's call him Joe," she said, eager.

I smiled. "Joe, then. If Joe had been paying attention, the time wouldn't have needed to be quite so exact." I shook my head, rolling my eyes. Forgetting the pretenses of my answer I added, "Only _you_ could get into trouble in a town this small. You would have devastated their crime rate statistics for a decade, you know."

Her eyes narrowed as she said, "We were speaking of a hypothetical case."

I laughed at her, in a very sincere way. She was funny, but I wasn't completely sure why.

"Yes, we were," I agreed. "Shall we call you Jane?" I asked, keeping up pretenses.

"How did you know?" she asked again, her impatience getting the better of her.

I watched her, debating whether I should tell her or not. I knew that the worst that could happen would be that she would never want to talk to me again, and I reasoned with myself countless times that this would be the best thing for me and for her. The safest thing. The responsible thing. But as I looked in her eyes, all I saw was genuine curiosity. She had no deeper intentions. She genuinely wanted to know how I knew where she was, and I knew deep down that she wouldn't tell a soul. Why did I feel compelled to tell her? Why did I feel as if I owed her this? Why did I want to comfort her? Tell her that it was okay? That nothing was ever going to happen to her as long as I could help the situation.

"You can trust me, you know," she murmured. She reached forward, and I felt myself panic as I felt her warmth begin to radiate more extensively toward me. I slid my hands back infinitesimally, afraid of what my touch would do to her, but I could feel my non-existent heart leap in my chest as I thought of the fact that she wanted to touch me. Willingly!

"I don't know if I have a choice anymore," I told her honestly. "I was wrong—you're much more observant than I gave you credit for."

"I thought you were always right," she said, teasing me.

"I used to be," I corrected her, shaking my head. "I was wrong about you on one other thing, as well. You're not a magnet for accidents—that's not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will invariably find you."

"And you put yourself into that category," she asked.

Yes, I thought, because I will never be more than ten miles from you ever again. "Unequivocally," I stated matter of factly.

She stretched her hand across the table again as her heart sped up. I pulled my hands back again, but she ignored me, and I waited for her to pull back when she finally rested her hands on mine again. My head swam with the feeling that coursed through my body at the touch. I wanted to hold her hand—they were so small and soft, but she was so delicate! I could so easily crush her, and the image of her broken body again filled my mind.

"Thank you," she said passionately. "That's twice now."

"Let's not try for three, agreed?" I countered back, my angry demeanor dissolving. There was something so sincere in her gesture, I could not help but believe her.

She scowled at me, but nodded. I moved my hands from under hers into my lap, but chose to lean toward her—I didn't want her to think that I didn't want to be near her.

"I followed you to Port Angeles," I admitted suddenly. I knew that she deserved the truth. Or at least a portion of it. "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes." I paused, hoping that I didn't offend her.

"Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" she asked, her lips turned up into a smile.

"That wasn't the first time," I said seriously. I looked down, ashamed of what I was about to admit. "Your number was up the first time I met you."

Her heart skipped a beat at my words, and I felt the agony of what I knew was surely to come. She would ask to leave now, and I would have to watch from a distance, learn to live without her. I knew the moment would come, but I did not expect it to be this hard. Her heartbeat slowed, and of course, when I looked up again to read her eyes, she surprised me. There was no trace of fear in them.

"You remember," I asked her quietly.

"Yes," she replied calmly.

"And yet here you sit," I said baffled, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, here I sit…because of you," she said pausing. "Because somehow you knew how to find me today…?"

I pressed my lips together at her prompt, and tried to decide if I should continue to tell her the truth. I knew that I wanted to tell her the truth more than I wanted to lie so I compromised.

"You eat, I'll talk."

She immediately stuffed a ravioli in her mouth.

"It's harder than it should be—keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before." I looked at her before continuing. Her expression was one of unreadable attention. "I was keeping tabs on Jessica, not carefully—like I said, only you could find trouble in Port Angeles—and at first I didn't notice when you took off on your own. Then, when I realized that you weren't with her anymore, I went looking for you at the bookstore I saw in her head. I could tell that you hadn't gone in, and that you'd gone south…and I knew you would have to turn around soon. So I was just waiting for you, randomly searching through the thoughts of people on the street—to see if anyone had noticed you so I would know where you were. I had no reason to be worried…but I was strangely anxious…" I trailed off, thinking back to the instinctual worry that seared through me.

"I started to drive in circles, still…listening. The sun was finally setting, and I was about to get out and follow you on foot. And then—" I broke off, trying to suppress my anger as I thought of the four men I had all but ignored for the majority of our dinner together.

"Then what," Bella prompted me.

"I heard what they were thinking," I growled. "I saw your face in his mind." I leaned forward suddenly, placing one elbow on the table covering my eyes, in less than an eighty-sixth of a second. "It was very…hard—you can't imagine how hard—for me to simply take you away, and leave them…alive. I could have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," I admitted, ashamed.

She was very still as I finished speaking, and the only reassurance I had that she was still there was the resolute beating of her heart. _Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. _I finally looked up, my eyes boring into hers.

"Are you ready to go home?" I asked her.

"I'm ready to leave," she qualified carefully.

The waitress appeared, and I asked for the check.

"S-sure," she stuttered, handing me the brown leather folder.

I placed a hundred dollar bill inside the fold and handed it back to her, barely glancing at the price. "No change." I smiled at her, for her benefit only and Bella stood up.

"You have a nice evening," she called after our retreating backs. I thanked her kindly as I watched Bella.

I walked close beside Bella to the front door, afraid to get to close. She sighed, and I looked down at her curiously, wondering what she was thinking. Did she want me to hold her hand? Surely she did not. I was ice cold, and didn't trust myself with her that surely just yet. I opened the passenger side door for her, and shut it softly behind her. After seating myself in the car, I started the engine and turned the heater up. The temperature had dropped four degrees since we went into the restaurant and suspected that Bella would be cold.

I headed out into traffic, and turned onto the freeway.

"Now," I said significantly, looking at her, "It's your turn."


	3. Theme from Chapter 9 Theory

"Can I ask just one more," she asked me as I began down the empty road back into Forks.

I was trying desperately to not become distracted as we rode home. I wanted to ask her as many questions I could in this time period, and get some answers. I did what I could to answer her demands in the restaurant reasonably, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, I felt _relieved_ to be able to tell her the truth—not anxious or remorseful at all. I decided to allow her one more question, so long as it remained at just that—one. I sighed as I quietly sped along, "One."

"Well," she hesitated, "you said that you knew I hadn't gone into the bookstore, and that I had gone south. I was just wondering how you knew that."

I looked away from her as I contemplated her question. It was a simple question, but would my answer scare her away? I knew deep down that this would be best. She did not need to be any more involved with me than she already was, but I also, as I almost always had until this point, felt entirely obligated to answer her questions as honestly as I could.

"I thought we were past all the evasiveness," she muttered after my silence got the best of her patience.

I resisted the urge to smile at her jibe; I didn't want to upset her at all, but I almost laughed out loud as I imagined her reaction to what I was about to say.

"Fine, then," I began, "I followed your scent."

I looked away from her, and listened to her heart begin to speed up, and then slow again almost immediately. Was that in fear? It _should_ be, I was dangerous. But I was beginning to think that Bella really didn't fear me as much as she should. I took in a deep breath, and washed down another swatch of venom. Although I had to admit that I was nearly desensitized from her scent at this point, it still reminded me of what I truly was, no matter how safe or "normal" I felt when I was near her.

"And then you didn't answer one of my first questions," she tried, biding more time.

I looked at her with a reproachful expression. I knew what she was doing, and I was slightly annoyed due to my own intentions, but I found that I couldn't be too angry with her.

"Which one?" I asked her slowly.

"How does it work—the mind-reading thing? Can you read anybody's mind, anywhere? How do you do it? Can the rest of your family…?" She sounded excited, and I could tell that she had been waiting for an opportunity to ask me these questions. I eyed her expression, and she was looking at me hopefully, and I felt my resolve softening quickly.

"That's more than one," I chided her, playing for more time to decided how honest I would be with her.

She intertwined her fingers and looked at me pointedly. I debated telling her for a full five seconds as I ran through the possibilities in my head. I knew that she deserved the truth, ultimately, but how much could I tell her before she went running? How deep into this conversation could we delve before she reached her breaking point? What would it take for her to understand that I was the most dangerous thing that would ever enter her life? I knew that she miscalculated everything I said as an exaggeration, and I wondered vaguely if she thought that I didn't want to be near her. She sighed quietly, and I decided I would tell her the truth. Maybe, if I could be as honest as possible, she would see her mistake and never talk to me again.

"No, its just me. And I can't hear anyone, anywhere. I have to be fairly close. The more familiar someone's…'voice' is, the farther away I can hear them. But still, no more than a few miles." I tried to think of a way to put this into better words for her to understand. "It's a little like being in a huge hall filled with people, everyone talking at once. It's just a hum—a buzzing of voices in the background. Until I focus on one voice, and then what they're thinking is clear." I paused for an eighty-fourth of a second to gauge her reaction. She was looking at me intently, holding onto every word.

"Most of the time I tune it all out—it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem _normal_, " I continued, frowning my face, "when I'm not accidentally answering someone's thoughts rather than their words."

"Why do you think you can't hear me?" she asked, curious.

I looked at her with an inscrutable expression.

"I don't know, " I murmured. "The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs does. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency, and I'm only getting FM." I grinned at her, happy with my clever analogy.

Her expression was serious as she looked down at her hands. "My mind doesn't work right? I'm a freak?"

I looked at her incredulously as I composed my face and laughed. "I hear voices in my head and you're worried that you're the freak." Her expression did not dissipate as I tried to make light of the situation, so I went for reassurance instead. "Don't worry, it's just a theory…" My face-hardened as I mentally kicked myself for getting distracted. So frustrating, that a century's worth of developing a steady ream of self control and determination could be shattered in a mere five minutes. "Which brings us back to you."

Bella sighed, and I looked at her, confused but amused. She was so curious to know all about me, but she regarded herself so lightly. She acted as if she were not interesting in the slightest, and I could not tell her enough that she was by far the most interesting thing I had come across in one hundred years.

"Aren't we past all the evasiveness now," I asked her lightly, repeating her words to her.

She looked away from me, and her face changed from one of thoughtfulness to sheer terror. Was this the end?

"Holy crow," she shrieked, and I felt myself almost cower at the horror reverberating in her voice. I felt my chest constrict and it began to get hard to breathe. Is this what heartbreak felt like? "Slow down," she shouted after five seconds had passed.

I looked at her confused, as I caught my breath and stared at her.

"What's wrong?" I asked her, bewildered.

"You're going a hundred miles per hour!" she yelled at me. She looked out the window as her heart rate increased further, and I did not know what to do as I watched her reaction. She was being highly overdramatic; did she think I would put her life in danger?

"Relax, Bella," I said, rolling my eyes.

"Are you trying to kill us," she demanded.

"We're not going to crash," I stated simply.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" she tried again, lowering her voice two octaves.

"I always drive like this," I said, smiling at her.

"Keep your eyes on the road," she shrieked again, losing her self-control. As serious as this situation should have been, I could not help but notice the soft blush of her cheeks as she got excited, nor could I ignore the warmth that radiated off of her skin as she became flustered.

"I've never been in an accident, Bella—I've never even gotten a ticket." I grinned again and tapped my forehead, happy I could openly joke about my talents with someone other than my family. "Built in radar detector."

She did not find my jokes amusing. "Very funny," she spat. "Charlie's a cop, remember? I was raised to abide by traffic laws. Besides, if you turn us into a Volvo pretzel around a tree trunk, you can probably just walk away."

"Probably," I agreed. I knew that she wasn't in danger and I hated driving at a snail's pace, but if it made her feel better, I knew I could live with it. It _did_ give me more time with her.

"Happy?" I asked her as I lifted my foot off the accelerator slightly as the car slowed to eighty miles per hour.

"Almost."

"I hate driving slow," I muttered out loud.

"This is slow," she asked, disbelieving.

"Enough commentary on my driving," I said quickly. "I'm still waiting for your latest theory."

She bit her lip, and I eyed her expression curiously. She looked at me, and I tried to reassure her.

"I won't laugh," I promised her.

"I'm more afraid that you'll be angry with me," she admitted.

I was confused as I thought this over in my head. There was nothing that she could do or say that would make me angry with her, but I figured that it would be best not to argue with her at the moment, either.

"Is it that bad?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

I waited for her to continue as I watched her fight to say what was on her mind. I did not think that it could ever be that bad—unless she had figured out what I was, in which case, I still wasn't mad—it was one more secret that I didn't have to keep, but it did present a very solid end to the beginning of our relationship.

"Go ahead," I said calmly.

"I don't know how to start," she said.

"Why don't you start at the beginning…you said you didn't come up with this on your own."

"No," she said, agreeing.

"What got you started," I tried again, fighting my curiosity. "A book—a movie?"

"No—it was Saturday at the beach." She looked at my face and I looked back at her with a confused expression.

"I ran into an old family friend—Jacob Black. His dad and Charlie have been friends since I was a baby."

I kept my confused expression locked on my face; nothing she was saying seemed to be adding up.

"His dad is one of the Quileute elders." As she spoke these words, it clicked into place. She knew exactly what I was. There was no way anyone could hear the legends of the Quileute people and not put the pieces into place. Bella was too observant not to do her homework and add two and two together. Unless, of course, she didn't believe it, which had to be the case—that would be the only qualifier to why she was still sitting here next to me.

"We went for a walk," she continued, either ignoring my expression or deciding that she had to finish what she started. "And he was telling me some old legends—trying to scare me, I think. He told me one…" she faltered at the end of her sentence.

"Go on," I prompted her immediately.

"About vampires," she whispered. I could hear her heart accelerating again, and I felt the agony from before wash over me in lapping waves.

"And you immediately thought of me?" I asked her.

"No. He…mentioned your family."

I did not say anything as she repeated this statement to me. What exactly had Jacob Black said about my family? Was it the truth?

"He just thought it was a silly superstition," she said quickly. "He didn't expect me to think anything of it. It was my fault, I forced him to tell me."

"Why?" I asked her.

"Lauren said something about you—she was trying to provoke me. And an older boy from the tribe said your family didn't come to the reservation, only it sounded like he meant something different. So I got Jacob alone and tricked it out of him." She hung her head as she finished her sentence and I could not help but laugh as I imagined Bella trying to _trick_ anything out of someone.

"Tricked him how," I asked her.

"I tried to flirt—it worked better that I thought it would." I could hear the disbelief in her tone as she voiced this out loud.

"I'd like to have seen that," I said chuckling darkly. "And you accuse me of dazzling people—poor Jacob Black."

I felt her blush as she looked out her window again.

"What did you do then," I asked her, picturing her on First Beach with young Jacob Black.

"I did some research on the internet."

"And did that convince you," I asked her half skeptical.

"No," she said, surprising me. "Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…" she stopped midsentence.

"What?"

"I decided it didn't matter," she stated simply.

I almost stopped the car as I heard what came out of her mouth. Out of all the absurd things that Bella had come up with until this point, this was by far the most absurd of them all. How could it not matter? Was she crazy? I was dangerous, a threat to her life—and although she held no regard for self-preservation at all, how could she be daft enough to overlook someone—something—that wasn't even _alive_?

"It didn't _matter_?" I repeated incredulous, and borderline angry.

"No," she said softly, looking at me. "It doesn't matter to me what you are."

I looked at her as I fought to control my voice, failing miserably. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not _human_?"

"No."

I said nothing as I looked at the road ahead. I wasn't mad at Bella, not by a long shot. I was angry with myself. I had allowed myself too close, and took advantage of her trusting nature. I put her in danger and as I thought of her more, the image of her broken body came to mind again, this time accompanied by myself, looking into a mirror to see me, except with the signs to failure—eye's as red as rubies, glaring back at me. The eyes of a killer. Because ultimately that's what I was. A killer. Nature's best predator.

"You're angry," she sighed, and the emotion in her voice brought me back to the car. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," I disagreed quickly. "I'd rather know what you're thinking—even if what you're thinking is insane."

"So I'm wrong again," she challenged me, frustrated.

"That's not what I was referring to," I huffed, upset that she was missing the point. "'It doesn't matter'," I quoted back to her.

"I'm right," she gasped.

"Does it matter," I asked, gritting my teeth together in annoyance. Why did she continue to ignore what I was trying to get through to her?

"Not really," she admitted. "But I_ am_ curious," she added.

I could not keep up being angry and instead chose to listen as much as I needed to what she was saying.

"What are you curious about," I asked her, resigned.

"How old are you?" she asked me, taking me off guard.

"Seventeen," I responded easily.

"And how long have you been seventeen," she asked.

I almost smiled as I contemplated her reaction if I told her the truth.

"A while," I said, compromising.

"Okay," she said smiling, and I felt my heart constrict as I watched her. I noticed that as she smiled, my body reacted in new ways. I found myself committing that expression to memory, and wanting to make her smile more, to make her laugh, make her happy. I resisted the urge to reach over to her and trace her delicate features. She smiled wider at me, and I frowned as I began to grow worried with whatever she was thinking at that moment.

"Don't laugh—but how can you come out during the day," she asked.

I laughed anyway. "Myth."

"Burned by the sun?"

"Myth."

"Sleeping in coffins?"

"Myth," I started. But as I thought over the idea of sleep, I registered that she may as well know the truth about that also. I guessed what her reaction would be, but I thought almost as quickly that I would be wrong. "I can't sleep," I said.

She was quiet for a minute as she thought that over. "At all?" she asked me finally.

"Never," I said, looking at her. _But if I could,_ I thought, _all my dreams would be of you. _ I held her gaze as images of her sleeping came into mind, with me next to her, humming to her dreams.

"You haven't asked me the most important question yet," I said, my eyes scrutinizing her face.

She blinked as she registered what I said to her. "Which one is that?"

"You aren't concerned about my diet?" I asked her, sarcastically.

"Oh," she murmured. "That."

"Yes, that," I said incredulous. "Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"

"Well," she said flinching, "Jacob said something about that."

"What did Jacob say," I asked her flatly. Jacob Black seemed to have a lot to say.

"He said you didn't…hunt people. He said your family wasn't supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals."

"He said we weren't dangerous," I asked her dubiously.

"Not exactly. He said you weren't _supposed_ to be dangerous. But the Quileutes still didn't want you on their land, just in case."

I looked straight ahead again as I processed what she said. Although she was right—my family and I did not hunt people, I could not help but want to make to clear to her that it was still possible to lose control. She could not get comfortable with the idea that I could not, nor would never hurt her.

"So was he right," she prompted me. "About not hunting people?"

"The Quileutes have a long memory," I said softly. "Don't let that make you complacent though," I said, expression my worries. "They're right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."

"I don't understand," she said, shaking her head slightly.

"We try," I explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."

"This is a mistake," she asked, her voice thick with sadness.

I tried my best to disregard the sadness in her tone as I responded to her. "A very dangerous one."

She did not say anything as I continued to drive. Small waves of agony lapped at my chest as I struggled to retain self-control. I thought of the winding road ahead of us as I tried to see where this relationship would end up in her eyes. It was as if, just like on this road, I knew where this would end, because I was trained and built to see the big picture, everything that would happen, yet she could only see as far the headlights would take her, and every moment she got closer to her end, just as the road slipped into blackness as we continued forward.

"Tell me more," she said suddenly.

I looked at her as she spoke. I could not understand where her tone was coming from.

"What more do you want to know?" I asked her.

"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," she suggested.

"I don't want to be a monster," I told her quietly.

"But animals aren't enough," she asked me.

"I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn't completely satiate the hunger—or rather thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time. Sometimes its more difficult than others," I hinted, looking at her.

"Is it very difficult for you now," she asked me.

"Yes," I sighed.

"But you're not hungry now," she said.

"Why do you think that?" I asked her, curious.

"Your eyes—I told you I had a theory. I've noticed that people—men in particular are crabbier when they're hungry."

I laughed. "You are observant, aren't you?" I asked her.

She did not answer me, but looked out the window.

"Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, pausing. "I didn't want to leave, but it was necessary. It's a bit easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."

"Why didn't you want to leave," she asked me.

"It makes me…anxious…to be away from you," I admitted. "I wasn't joking when I asked you to try not to fall in the ocean or get run over last Thursday. I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight, I'm surprised that you did make it through a whole weekend unscathed." I looked down and modified that response, "Well, not totally unscathed."

"What?" she asked me, confused.

"Your hands," I murmured.

"I fell," she sighed.

"That's what I thought," I said, smiling. "I suppose, being you, it could have been much worse—and that possibility tormented me the entire time I was away. It was a very long three days. I really got on Emmett's nerves."

"Three days? Didn't you just get back today?" she asked.

"No, we got back Sunday," I said, confused by her tone of voice.

"Then why weren't any of you in school," she asked, challenging me.

"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out in the sunlight—at least, not where anyone can see," I clarified.

"Why?"

"I'll show you sometime," I promised her.

"You might have called me," she said, sounding huffy.

"But I knew you were safe," I said, pointing out the obvious.

"But _I_ didn't know where _you_ were," she said, explaining. "I—" she began, as a blush crept into her features.

"What?" I asked her, my heart lifting as I thought of the possibility of her missing me as much as I missed her.

"I didn't like it. Not seeing you. It makes me anxious, too."

I did not say anything as she finished talking, but I was overcome with joy and sadness at the same time. I should not be at this point with her. We should have stopped a long time ago. At the restaurant, at school, in biology. I should not be at this point with her, where I was missing her and she was undeniably missing me as well.

"Ah," I groaned out loud, anguished. "This is wrong."

"What did I say?" she asked, sounding small.

"Don't you see, Bella?" I asked her. "It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a wholly other thing for you to be involved." I turned my face to the road as I processed the severity of the situation I now found the both of us in. "I don't want to hear that you feel that way. It's wrong. It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Bella—please, grasp that."

"No," she said, sounding upset.

"I'm serious," I growled at her, angered by her stubbornness.

"So am I. I told you," she said adamantly. " It doesn't matter what you are. It's too late."

I clenched my fists as I comprehended her words. _No! _I thought to myself as I struggled to maintain my composure. _You will always have a choice. You will always be able to leave. Always._

"Never say that," I said darkly.

She bit her lip as I continued to drive, and I could not hear anything over the steady rhythm of her heart beating.

"What are you thinking," I asked her after a few moments of silence.

She shook her head, and I looked over to see that her face was wet. My brow furrowed as I looked at her, and I realized that she was crying.

"Are you _crying_," I asked her alarmed, as she struggled to wipe her face with the back of her hand.

"No," she said thickly.

I reached my hand out to stroke her head and let her know that it would be alright, that I wasn't going to leave and she had nothing to worry about, but I knew also that I could not lie to her, and as I was mere inches from her head, and jerked my hand back and placed it back on the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry," I said, my heart constricting.

"Tell me something," I said, after she didn't answer me.

"Yes?" she asked.

"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn't understand your expression—you didn't look that scared, you looked like you were concentrating very hard on something."

"I was trying to remember how to incapacitate an attacker—you know, self-defense. I was going to smash his nose into his brain."

"You were going to fight them," I asked her skeptically. "Didn't you think about running?"

"I fall down a lot when I run," she said sheepishly.

"What about screaming for help," I suggested.

"I was getting to that part."

I shook my head at her. "You were right—I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive."

She sighed, and looked out the window again.

"Will I see you tomorrow," she asked me.

"Yes," I said smiling, "I have a paper due, too. I'll save you a seat at lunch."

I stopped as we pulled up to Charlie's house, and everything was silent.

"Do you _promise_ to be there tomorrow?"

"I promise," I swore back to her.

She considered me for a moment, and then nodded her head. She pulled off my jacket and handed it to me, smelling it in the process.

"You can keep it," I said to her. "You don't have a jacket for tomorrow."

She handed it back to me anyway. "I don't want to have to explain to Charlie."

"Oh, right," I said, grinning.

She hesitated, her hand on the door handle.

"Bella?" I asked her, scanning the trees behind her house.

"Yes?" she asked, turning to face me.

"Will you promise me something?"

"Yes," she said.

"Don't go into the woods alone."

She stared at me, a confused expression on her face. "Why?"

I frowned, and my eyes were tight as I squinted into the trees.

"I'm not always the most dangerous thing out there. Let's leave it at that."

She shuddered slightly as she looked at me. "Whatever you say."

"I'll see you tomorrow," I sighed as I looked at the time. She needed her sleep, albeit only eight.

"Tomorrow, then," she said turning to exit the car.

As she paused to open the door, inspiration struck me as I leaned toward her.

"Bella," I breathed, waiting for her turn around again. As she turned, her hair grazed my face, and her scent filled my nostrils in a concentrated form.

She faced me finally and I could hear her heart stop beating. I would have been concerned, but I deduced that in this particular case, this wasn't exactly a bad thing.

"Sleep well," I whispered, my face mere inches from her. I resisted the urge to close the distance between us and place my lips on hers, but I knew that I did not possess the self-control for that.

She did not move for a full minute, and I finally leaned away from her heat and her scent. She was intoxicating me, and I knew that if she did not leave now, I probably would not ever let her go. She exited the car after another thirty seconds, and I almost got out of the car to carry her to her door as she tripped over a pebble on her walkway. As she reached for her keys, I revved my engine into a goodbye, and drove away silently, smiling to myself.

I drove home slowly, laughing to myself at the irony of the situation. Under normal circumstances I would be driving at least ninety, but when Bella asked me to slow down, the admonishment stuck. I was pleased with the outcome of our conversation generally, yet I could not help but become concerned with where this would lead if we kept this up. I could not see us becoming anything more than we were, as much as I wanted to be.

I was just far too dangerous to be anything more than her friend, and even that status was pushing it. She completed me in ways that I did not know I was empty. Esme felt that I was missing a part of my genetic makeup as a vampire because I was always alone, and Bella had quite literally become the center of my existence.

I could not wait until tomorrow, when I would pick her up for school and she would amaze me yet again. After getting home and changing my clothes into a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt, I ran back to Bella's house to watch my beloved drift into a peaceful sleep.

It was that night that I heard Bella murmur my name, followed by an 'I love you.'


End file.
